Book 1 - James Potter and the Hall of Elders' Crossing

“It’s a projection, Martin,” Vince said, lowering the camera. “I’ve seen these before. It’s not even a
very good one. You can hear the projector running. It’s right there, under the desk. And see here? Dry ice
machine. Makes the smoke.”
Finney cleared his throat near the door. “This is getting rather embarrassing, Mr. Prescott.”
“Greetings,” said Professor Binns.
Prescott turned wildly. He was obviously coming rather unraveled. “No!” he shouted. “This is all a
setup! It’s his fault! He’s trying to trick all of you!” He pointed at Hubert.
“Well, that is what we do here,” Hubert said, smiling politely. “We’re in the business of tricks.
Although we prefer the term ‘illusion’, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s maaaaa-gic,” Delacroix suddenly said, a bit inanely. She gave a ghastly grin.
“I see what you’re all trying to do here,” Prescott said, still pointing at Hubert, and then McGonagall
and even Sacarhina and Recreant, who shook their heads vigorously. “You’re trying to make me look like a
madman! Well, my public knows me better than that, and so do my associates. You can’t hide everything!
What about the moving staircases? Or the giants? Hmm? Or…” Prescott stopped, his finger still in midpoint.
His eyes went unfocussed for a moment, and then he grinned maliciously. “I know just the thing.
Just the thing indeed. Vince, Eddie, the rest of you, come with me.”
Hubert followed as the crew clanked and jostled through the crowd of students. “Where are you
going, Mr. Prescott? I’m your guide, if you recall. I’ll show you whatever you wish.”
“Yes?” Prescott said, spinning back toward Hubert. The curious students had parted for him and his
crew, so that Prescott glared back between them, glancing from side to side. “Will you show me…,” he
paused dramatically and tilted his head up, “the Garage?”
“The…,” Hubert began. He blinked, and then looked aside at Professor McGonagall. James
suddenly felt Harry’s hand tighten on his shoulder. Something was wrong. “The… Garage?” Hubert
repeated, as if he was unfamiliar with the word.
Prescott’s grin grew predatory. “Aha! Weren’t prepared for that, were you? Yes, I had myself a good
long look around the grounds while you were all busy this morning. Peeked here and there and got quite an
eyeful! There is a garage,” he said, turning to face the camera, “that penetrates the very fabric of space and
time, creating a magical portal between this place and another place thousands of kilometers away! America,
if I may be so bold as to guess! I have seen it myself. I have been inside the structure, and smelled the air of
that far-off place. I have seen the sunrise of that land, while the sun here was high above the horizon. It was
no trick, no illusion. These people would have us believe that they are mere tricksters, while I maintain, as I
have witnessed with my own eyes, that they are dabblers in a form of magic that is purely and simply
supernatural. Now I will prove it!” With a flourish, Prescott turned and marched away, heading back to the
Entrance Hall. Harry fell in line next to Hubert, but couldn’t get his attention.
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